Daydreams, Hope, and an Orange Shirt
by EE's Skysong
Summary: John's orange shirt kept drawing my eyes. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to touch him in general, but I wanted to see how that shirt would feel against my skin. Jonda for Jonda's sake.


Disclaimer: "She's cold and she's cruel But she knows what she's doin' She pushed me in the pool At our last school reunion She laughs at my dreams But I dream about her laughter Strange as it seems She's the one I'm after"

(An: Inspired by a twisted combination of Fall Out Boy and Click Five. Do you really want to know? We are ignoring Wanda's whole mind-wipe thing... that never interested me in the least.)

I wasn't supposed to be staring. I was supposed to be browsing through Hot Topic. It was the dumbest store I'd ever been in- the stuff was cool, but how were you supposed to show your individuality through stuff that was mass-produced? Really, anything they had in there was far less interesting than St. John Allerdyce.

He was sitting in the food court of the mall with those two weird friends of his- the Cajun and the Russian. I hadn't bothered to learn their names. They didn't have red hair. They didn't know what it was like to be considered crazy. They weren't nearly as interesting, in other words.

So far, he hadn't noticed my gaze. He was far too involved in whatever conversation they were having.

I fiddled with a strand of my black hair, safe inspecting a shelf of Foamy merchandise. The shirts here were mostly black, but John's orange shirt kept drawing my eyes.

I wanted to touch it. I wanted to touch him in general, but I wanted to see how that shirt would feel against my skin... how it would feel as I pulled it off his. He looked like he had soft skin. It was tanned, and I could see faint pink burn marks on his arms.

I didn't know why I wanted to touch him so badly. I barely knew him and I certainly wasn't interested in him for anything beyond losing my virginity. There was something about him, though- the way he held himself, the way he showed everything he was thinking in his eyes, the way he always smiled... He had life.

I wanted to feel that.

&&&

Remy started snickering in the middle of our conversation. This was offending, not because he was laughing at me, but because I wasn't finished with the joke I was telling, so he shouldn't have been laughing. I finished the joke, and Piotr, at least, laughed when he was supposed to. "Now what was that about?"

"What?" Remy asked, looking all-too-innocent.

"You've got that 'I know something you don't know' smirk on your face. Don't even try."

"All right, all right..." Remy started snickering again and nodded at something behind me. "Look back there."

I turned and immediately ducked my head, cursing under my breath at how easily redheads blushed. Wanda was in the Hot Topic behind me, browsing. "What does that have to do with anything?" I hissed. Remy was one of the few people who knew about my irrational crush on the witch.

Remy was still smirking. "She was staring at you."

I looked up, not sure how to reply to that. "So...?"

"It wasn't a spaced-out type of stare, either... I think she was watching you, Johno."

"That's just not nice." I traced a circle on the table. Remy_ knew_ I didn't like being teased about my thing for Wanda.

"I ain't lyin', _mon ami_," Remy replied, sounding even more amused. "If anything, she was downright ogling you."

"Feh." I refused to even consider the possibility. Our previous meetings had been unpleasant, and, although she didn't remember the incident at the bridge or the one at the ski slope, we had ran into each other other times, and each time she had treated me to the scorn worthy of a Maximoff.

"He actually is telling the truth," Piotr put in.

I looked up, startled. Pete didn't talk much, as a rule, but when he did it was always a good idea to listen.

A corner of Piotr's mouth went up. "She was."

I searched the tabletop for the proper cutting retort. But since I was talking to Pete, I decided to be slightly nice. "Thank you for informing me," I said, my voice as frosty as my cheeks were hot.

Remy started snickering again. I don't think I've ever wanted to punch him more, and that's saying something.

&&&

I left the Hot Topic, feeling I'd gotten my dose of John. As far as I knew, he hadn't seen me, but I had seen him. I wanted to get my hands on that boy so bad... it made me wish I could just corner him in an alley so I could go back to living my life.

Entering the Brotherhood house, I was confronted by Pietro. "What're you grinning about?" From the little black book in his hands, I guessed that his date hadn't gone well.

"Absolutely none of your business," I replied. I_ was_ in a good mood- I couldn't even be too nasty to Pietro. But John did that to me. I hadn't actually interacted with him (and whenever I got the chance to, I was a jerk; appearances had to be kept up, after all), but just watching him be happy had put me on a natural high.

Humming under my breath, I drifted up to my room.

&&&

Running my fingers through my newly-washed hair to get it to spike like I wanted, I wandered into my room. I coaxed a flame out of my lighter and used it to light the candles scattered around my room. I had a lamp for when the candles hurt my eyes, but I preferred flames. It was soothing.

I picked up a red one and sat down on my bed, letting the flame tickle my fingers. Absently moving my hands in and out of it, I wondered to myself. Wanda _had_ been staring at me in the mall. What did that mean? Her actions toward me would never had led me to the idea that she found me easy on the eyes... she hated me! Certainly, she hadn't done anything as drastic as push me off a bridge recently, but the last time we'd met she'd shoved me into a pool. Since it had been the middle of January, it hadn't been fun.

I looked down at the candle in my hand, and realized I'd turned the flame into a picture of Wanda's face, smiling, although I had never had the joy of seeing her do so.

I sighed, blowing it out. Hope like that was for stupid people who didn't mind getting their hearts crushed.

&&&

The next time I met John, I was dragged into it by the Brotherhood. I was walking to the Jeep when Todd (who had yet to give up on me) alerted me to the Acolyte's presence. "What're they doing here, yo?"

"I don't know and I don't... care." The pause between my last two words was because I spotted John. Our eyes met and I made mine harden. He looked away and I gathered my books a little closer to my chest. "They're probably just here to harass the X-geeks. Don't make eye contact."

"Good idea."

We met Lance and Fred, and as we all headed for the Jeep, the Acolytes followed. We leaned against it, letting Lance take the lead. "What do you guys want?" It was innocuous but not friendly.

"Relax, Rocky," drawled the Cajun, his voice a calming purr. "We ain't here for trouble."

Lance crossed his arms with a look that showed how much he believed _that_.

"We're looking for Misty," John piped up. My expression didn't change, even though I loved hearing him speak.

Lance groaned. "She's not here. She hasn't been here for _months_."

"We know. But Maggy said we had to ask."

I resisted the urge to giggle at this new nickname for my father. I allowed a small smile, though.

John's eyes flicked to me, and, seeing my smile, he lost some of his hurt-puppy look. I refused to consider the possible meaning of that. Hope was for idiots.

&&&

_She smiled! At _me! But that was stupid. However, she _had_ smiled only after I spoke... _Maybe she's just happy you shut up._ Shooing such thoughts from my mind, I smiled back tentatively.

Remy twiddled his fingers at the Brotherhood. "_Je suis desolé que j'aie perdu votre temps._ Vraiment." I had no idea what he'd really said, but he was wearing his trademark condescending smirk and his tone on the last word was just a _tiny_ bit sarcastic.

As we left, I heard Wanda whisper, "Does the tall guy ever talk?" Remy and I waited to get around the block before laughing (Piotr wasn't amused).

&&&

_John floundered in the pool, his shirt clinging to every inch of skin. His red hair was soaked, his blue eyes cross as he spat water at me. I stared at him cooly, expressionless._

"What the hell was that for?" he demanded.

I crossed my arms. It wasn't an odd question, considering I'd just shoved him in, but my tone in reply suggested he was an idiot for not knowing. "You annoy me." I was every part the icy bitch, the tilt of my hips making the view nice but my arms covering it.

He glared at me and pulled himself out of the water. As though not realizing how hard it made my heart beat, he pulled his shirt off. He was more wraith chic than buff, but that suited me and my hormones just fine. He squeezed water out of his shirt; this was one of the first times I saw the hurt-puppy look I mentioned before.

And then the dream changed from what actually happened.

Looking down at his shirt instead of me, his expression changed; a smirk spread across his face. "What're you staring at, sheila?"

I shrugged, pushing my hair behind my ears and studying him from under my lashes.

"It's not nice to lie, Wanda." The way he said my name made me shiver. He stepped up behind me, running a hand down my arm. I turned my head and our lips met. Putting an arm on my waist, he pulled me closer as I buried my fingers in his hair. His hand traveled up my shirt, and-

That was when I woke up, tangled up in my sheets and staring at the ceiling. I felt a little disappointed, too.

Sighing to myself, I got out of bed. A shower seemed like a good idea.

&&&

Tabitha Smith, the errant, "I'm here, now I'm not" member of the Brotherhood, was in our kitchen that morning. She looked me over skeptically when I came in. If I hadn't been so tired (and secretly reviewing last night's dream) I would've returned the look. I had far more right to be here than she did.

"Good sleep?" she asked, propping her feet on the table with a smirk.

I didn't answer, feeling a blush rise in my cheeks.

"I thought so. Who's the lucky boy?" She looked me over. "Or do you actually have any girl friends?"

"It's a guy," I replied, "and it's none of your business."

"Of course it isn't. But you'll tell me because I'm an objective party and you want someone to unload to."

I sat down, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Come on, I won't tell..."

"You're here to stalk my brother. If he finds out, I'll kill you."

"I know, I know..."

"And besides, the guy in question is an enemy to you whether you're an X-man or a Brotherhood badass."

"So it's one of Mags's goons then? The fireboy?"

"How did you-"

"My radar never fails me... which is why I'm not chasing your brother, since he's fruitier than Christmas cake."

I didn't pay any attention to that, since my brother had just entered the room, and I assumed it was merely to piss him off.

Pietro flipped her off, and Tabitha smiled dreamily at him. "Nice boxers. Wish I were wearing them."

Pietro looked at the bowl in his hand as though considering whether to throw it at Tabby, and then set it down. "You're not worth it. I'm too tired to aim right."

Tabby smirked. "Aw, pity."

Pietro flipped her off again, leaving with a bowl of cereal.

Tabby sighed blissfully, then turned back to me. "So, you and fireboy, huh."

"His name's John."

"I know, but fireboy fits him better. John's way too normal."

I didn't say anything; she had me there.

"So, let me guess, you were daydreaming about some incident gone awry that turned decidedly sexy?"

"I pushed him into a pool."

Tabitha paused, tapping her lips with a finger. "Mmm, not bad."

I glared at her.

"Hey, you haven't claimed him yet, woman. Daydreams are perfectly free."

"I thought that you dig my brother."

"Of course I do, but he hasn't bitten yet, has he?" She drummed her fingers on the table, thinking. "Well, it might help to make friends with fireboy."

"Are you kidding? That's... that's, like, traitorous!"

"Only in your perception of it... and anyway, since when did you give a damn about what these idiots think?"

She had a point. "But still... I mean, he probably hates me. I've been nothing but a bitch to him."

"Trust me, guys dig that kind of thing. Why do you think I treat 'Tro the way I do?"

"But he can't stand you."

"Nah, he just gets bored too easily. But I'm not the idea here, you are. Quit dodging the subject, woman! He probably likes you. All you have to do is get him alone somewhere and jump him!"

This idea had never crossed my mind. Now suggested, it seemed like the most appealing idea since caramel brownies. The image of myself grabbing him in some alley and peeling off that shirt, our lips locked... gorgeous. Life was beautiful.

"See how great that sounds?"

I nodded, still very involved in my daydream.

"Hey, hey, no orgasms at the table!"

I nearly fell off my chair, snapping back to reality. Tabby's comment may have been sarcastic, but she had a point. I stood up and headed for the door.

"Wow," I heard Tabby say behind me. "I should encourage people more often. They really buy it!"

Unsure whether or not to be leery, I decided to make the best of my newfound confidence and leave for the Acolytes' anyway (I knew where it was thanks to Pietro).

&&&

I was muttering to myself, lost in the throes of writer's block in my room, when Remy knocked. "Read the-"

"Visitor for you, Johno."

My eye twitched. "I don't care, you-"

"But I think you will when you see who it is."

"I don't care if it's the bloody queen mother-"

"Better. It's Wanda."

"WHAT!" I about fell out of my chair at that. Swearing, I opened the door. From the way he backed up, I had probably just about de-nosed Remy. _His is big, anyway_, I thought, booking it down the hallway.

I paused in front of the door, taking a breath to look calm. Then I opened it.

&&&

I toed the ground. I had hoped John would answer the door so I could just grab his shoulders and pop him one right on the mouth. But nope, the Cajun had answered, and now I had time to doubt. What if he just looked at me and slammed the door in my face? God knew my behavior would justify that kind of reaction. Or what if he just stared at me and I lost my nerve? ...If you honestly buy the tough-chick act, I'm in the money.

You know that annoying little voice that asks all the what-if's when you're nervous? That voice was gagged, duct-taped to a chair, and locked in a closet as soon as John opened the door.

&&&

Wanda kissed me. Wanda _kissed_ me. Wanda kissed _me_. If I put it down enough it might seem more real. She just grabbed my shirt and assaulted me. Not that it was bad, mind you; as soon as I got a clue what was going on I was just as into it as she was. When she came up for air, I pulled her inside and carefully kept her at arm's length. "Now hold up... what just happened?"

"I kissed you. Go figure."

"...Go figure? But you hate me!"

"Not as much as you think."

"But-"

"Shut up. Where's your room?"

I had to admit, her bossines was kind of turning me on. I led her down the hallway, her hand in mine.

&&&

John's room was orange, like his shirt and most of the rest of the stuff he owned. The shirt I'd seen him wearing in the mall was crumpled on the floor, next to some khakis and a bucket hat. There was a large lighter on the dresser, surrounded by candles. It took me a second to realize it was a shrine.

"So, um... _now_ will you tell me what that was all about?"

"Absolutely nothing. I'm running on lust here." This wasn't totally the truth, but I didn't like to admit that. It was easier to just pretend I could get this boy out of my life with a rush of chemicals. "Now quit talking, Syngen."

John gaped at me. "You... you said my name right."

"Does it win me brownie points?" I replied, kicking off my shoes.

"Nobody _ever_ says my name right."

"Yeah, well, maybe I make it a point to know this stuff."

He blinked, shrugged, and pulled off his shirt. It was as I remembered- he was skinny but muscly, the type of guy I, as a proper Goth, was into.

I sat beside him, putting my hand on his chest and pushing him flat on his back. "Don't ask questions and we'll get along fine, flameboy."

John shrugged again, undoing my shirt.

&&&

When the guy wants to talk more than the girl does, it's probably a bad sign. This was one of the things I realized as I watched Wanda sleep. I touched her cheek, but she didn't stir. She was a tough girl and wore her care lines even in sleep. I put an arm around her and moved in close. It was handy she was a heavy sleeper.

Another of those things was that if you're in love with a girl, being her sex slave isn't the best way to start a relationship. It had happened pretty fast, sure, but with her few terse sentences she had made it a point to imply she didn't want commitment. I was one of those guys who liked to string out a relationship, take it day by day, see how far it can go. Wanda apparently wanted to satisfy her carnal urges and get on with life.

In other words, she needed to be loved, but she'd never let anyone. Especially not me.

I sighed, closing my eyes. It was better not to worry about it. If it was meant to last, I'd find a way back to her. If it wasn't... Goth girls were a dime a dozen. _They're just not her._

&&&

When I woke up, John was still asleep. He had his arm around me, his face buried in my back. I rolled over and he opened his eyes. "Morning..." he mumbled. He had such gorgeous green eyes... all I wanted to do was lie there for the rest of the day and stare into them. And repeat some of last night's activities. Instead, I made my eyes harden again. I got up and started away from the bed, but John grabbed my arm, sitting up. "Oh no you bloody don't, woman."

I looked at him, my eyebrows raised. That was usually enough to make Toad stop touching me... except I didn't want John to.

Rather than the expected response, John just raised _his_ eyebrows, pulling me down onto the bed again. "I may've been willing to put up with your crap last night, but not now. Why on _earth_ did you show up here asking for sex? I'm not complaining, mind you, but you hate me." He scooted closer, putting his arms around his waist.

I met his eyes for a moment, then looked away. If I kept looking at him I knew I wouldn't be able to say my feelings for him were just hormones anymore. He put his head next to mine and I could feel his breath on my cheek. If he didn't say something, I was going to explode. There were no two ways about it.

"What was this, Wanda?" he whispered.

I closed my eyes. "Nothing." Since I had my eyes closed, I couldn't see to pull away when he kissed me.

&&&

I didn't want her to go anywhere. And I didn't believe her implications that this was a one-night stand. I wasn't sure if it was my own lovestruck fantasy or truth, but she had closed her eyes when she spoke, a chief liar's sign.

So I kissed her. To my surprise, she tried to jerk away. I refused to let her, putting my hand on her neck.

"This is foolishness," she mumbled when I let her go. "It's just lust." I think the words sounded hollow even to herself.

"For you, maybe." Wanda's eyes snapped to mine. I laced fingers with her. "Idunno, Wanda, I like you. Quite a bit, really." I cocked my head a little bit, suggesting that she should come forth with an explanation of her own.

Her voice was still a mumble. "I don't hate you... but you annoy me."

"Good. I annoy everyone."

"I just... don't like trusting people. Especially not you. I _should_ hate you, for what you do. But I just... can't manage it."

&&&

John rolled his eyes. "It's a start, sheila."

"Wanda."

He shrugged. He hadn't seemed to notice that I had just spilled my soul out to him... well, mostly. He kissed me softly. "Come on, luv, let's get breakfast."

I didn't protest. I hadn't acheived any of my goals from last night, but somehow that was ok.

When he pulled me into the kitchen I was wearing his orange shirt.

(Eh, it's got its flaws, but I don't feel like figuring out what they are right now... oh, well, it's a Jonda for the sake of Jonda, which is what I set out to write. Review!)


End file.
